Tourists in Kingston are a different breed from the kind you see on the north coast. They are not quite as horribly sunburnt, are less skimpily attired and tend to exhibit more variety in their clothing, demeanor and indeed their place of origin.  As we waited for our guide at the Bob Marley Museum to pick us up, we sipped on a (tourist-priced) Ting. I looked around curiously. There was a trio of young women from Toronto, who spent a lot of time giggling over Marley’s bedroom and speculating in whispers on how “hot” he was in that particular room. There was an amiable Australian, and a German-speaking couple who appeared to be having a continuous row, snapping fiercely at each other throughout the tour. The woman ended up stone-faced on the front doorstep. There were a couple of young Jamaicans speaking strong patois, but they might have been foreigners…